


Moving Day

by neverafuckgiven



Series: The Apartment AU [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Flirting, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pre-Slash, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverafuckgiven/pseuds/neverafuckgiven
Summary: “Sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you! I’m Jaskier!” A young man’s kneeling on the green carpet, retrieving everything and putting them back in the box; he hasn’t even looked up yet so all Geralt can see is a mop of brown hair and a trim figure. “I’m supposed to have a friend here helping me, but unfortunately he seems to have abandoned me! So I am forced to trudge with my humble-“ The man looks up and finally stops talking once he makes eye contact with Geralt.Honestly, Geralt’s not surprised. Most people have that reaction. He’s been told he’s terrifying*Jaskier moves into the apartment next to Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Apartment AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631164
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1516





	Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. It's almost 1:30 AM. I looked it over for errors but I am also very tired.
> 
> Yennefer and Ciri are mentioned, but do not appear.

Geralt’s just started his workout when he hears it. He’s focused entirely on the punching bag, no thought going through his mind but connecting the hit, controlling his breathing, when he hears a man’s soft voice singing. It’s enough to make him pause and cock his head, try to listen a little closer. He doesn’t recognize that voice. The singing gets louder and then a thud and a curse, the singing stopping. Geralt huffs and raises his hands to continue his workout. He’s not getting involved. He doesn’t get involved anymore. There’s another thud, some clanking, and more cursing. He huffs, hits the bag a few more times, trying to refocus before he finally curses and gives up. He stalks out of the back room and towards the door, throwing it open.

There are a lot of things on the ground. It mostly looks like junk: books, movies, some score sheets for music. The sheets are probably for the lute that’s been propped up against the wall. He didn’t realize they even made lutes anymore.  


“Sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you! I’m Jaskier!” A young man’s kneeling on the green carpet, retrieving everything and putting them back in the box; he hasn’t even looked up yet so all Geralt can see is a mop of brown hair and a trim figure. “I’m supposed to have a friend here helping me, but unfortunately he seems to have abandoned me! So I am forced to trudge with my humble-“ The man looks up and finally stops talking once he makes eye contact with Geralt.

Honestly, Geralt’s not surprised. Most people have that reaction. He’s been told he’s terrifying.

Good. 

“Wow.” Jaskier stands, holding his overloaded box, trying to steady it with his thigh. “You are very-wow. Ah, I’m Jaskier.”

“You said that already.” Geralt’s momentarily distracted by bright blue eyes and that striking face before he shakes it off, looks down at the man with what he hopes is a scowl; the man is only an inch or two smaller than him, but Geralt is broader and more muscular. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to accomplish by standing straighter and squaring his shoulders.

“You know, this is normally the part of the conversation where you would introduce yourself.” Jaskier seems to be sizing him up, eyes flitting between Geralt’s face, bare chest and arms quickly. “A gentleman would offer to help, maybe carry a box or two.”

Geralt snorts, tries not to laugh in the man’s face. “I’m not a gentleman.”

Jaskier chuckles a bit, a throaty sound that makes Geralt shift absentmindedly. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He says it almost under his breath, looking up at him through dark lashes; the comment makes Geralt genuinely frown in confusion.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hallway is the only warning before- “Geralt!” Jaskier visibly startles, almost drops his box as Triss moves towards them. “Help the poor boy out!” Geralt huffs and takes the box, hefting it with ease. “You must be the new tenant. I’m Triss! I live in 306.”

“At least someone seems to have some manners.” Jaskier holds out his hand and shakes Triss’ with a smile. “I’m Jaskier. I’m in 304.”

“Oh? You two are going to be neighbors.” Triss casts a sidelong glance at Geralt. “Don’t worry. He’s not very talkative. Don’t take it personally. He didn’t say hello to me for two months when I first moved in. Just very solemn nods in my direction.”

“Maybe I should be flattered then! I’ve gotten two whole sentences out of him.” 

“You should be! I didn’t get a full sentence out of him for half a year! Maybe you’ve gotten soft in your old age, Geralt.” 

“Hmmm.” Geralt’s going to drop this box and go back to his workout. Any time now.

“Old? I thought maybe the hair was a style choice.” Jaskier’s gaze is back on him, which makes Geralt scowl even harder. 

“Oh no, the white hair is genetic! And I swear I’m only joking about him being old. He’s only 35.” Triss leans closer to Jaskier and whispers very dramatically. “It’s not fair. Almost criminal, I’d say.”

“Geralt!” Vesemir comes trotting down the stairs, a small smile on his face.

“You’re quite popular for someone so quiet.” Jaskier picks up his lute now, shifting his weight again; something in his smile is a little nervous. Geralt doesn’t mean to see it. He doubts Triss and Vesemir do at all. Maybe it’s the number of people in the small hallway?

“I’m glad to see you’re out being social.” Vesemir knows damn well Geralt isn’t being social; the old man is practically laughing at him. Fuck him. “Jaskier, do you need any help moving your things? Geralt and I can certainly carry a few boxes.” No, they damn well can’t. Geralt is not doing this.

And so, for two hours, the four of them carry item after item into Jaskier’s new home next to Geralt. Vesemir’s strong for an old man, and stubborn, so he and Geralt carry up the heavier things like the sofa and dressers while Jaskier and Triss make more trips carrying the various smaller boxes. After everything is in the apartment, Vesemir excuses himself and tells Jaskier to stop by the office downstairs anytime. Triss lingers for a bit, unpacking dishes and books, while Jaskier deliberates on where to put everything, leaving Geralt to move the couch this way and that way, losing himself in thought.

The apartment is a mirror image of Geralt’s own. It seems larger though, more open with Jaskier’s bright decorations and artwork. 

“Geralt?” He turns and sees Jaskier fidgeting in the entry to the kitchen. 

“Hmm?” 

“And here I thought we were on full sentences.” Jaskier’s smiling even though it’s obvious how tired he is; it makes Geralt realize the daylight’s fading outside. “Just wanted to let you know Triss is gone. Said she had to get ready for her shift.”

“I should go too.” Geralt’s tired too and cold from the leftover sheen of sweat he worked up from the move. Jaskier probably wants time alone to settle. Melitele knows Geralt spent days pacing his apartment, getting over how territorial he felt and how angry he’d been that he’d been forced in there after what happened. Not even Ciri had been allowed in during that first week.

“Oh.” Jaskier almost sounds disappointed. “If you like. I was just going to order takeout. I didn’t know if you wanted any. I was going to offer it as a thank you.” He’s holding up a menu for the Temerian place down the street. 

Geralt is very aware of how hungry he is. He is also aware that his kitchen is full of protein bars, orange juice, and some bread. The memory of Blaviken is there too, though. It always is.

“You don’t know me.” The scar Renfri gave him still aches when he thinks about what happened.

Jaskier’s eyebrows go up. “Typically when you invite someone to dinner, it’s with the intention of getting to know them better.” Maybe the expression on Geralt’s face says something he doesn’t because Jaskier shrugs and holds up four fingers. “Besides, I think I know you pretty well. You supposedly like to keep to yourself, but when you heard me drop my things, you came out to check on me when no one else did. Your face tries to say scary, but Triss felt comfortable enough to tease you to your face and Vesemir volunteered you for physical labor, which you could have refused. But you didn’t.” He lowers a finger with each item, taking a step forward, until he’s close enough to tap Geralt’s chest with his pointer finger. “And, to top it all off, instead of telling me to ‘fuck off’ or saying you have better things to do, you respond with ‘you don’t know me’.” 

“Fuck off. I have better things to do.” Geralt doesn’t move, just responds in a deadpan voice, which for some reason makes Jaskier laugh.

“Do you know what all that tells me?” Jaskier cocks his head, tapping Geralt’s chest gently. “It tells me you seem to think you’re not worth knowing even though evidence clearly points to the contrary.” The finger on Geralt’s chest transitions to a flat palm; the heat and weight of it there is almost as distracting as Jaskier’s cocky little smile. “And I learned all of that in just over two hours. Imagine what I’ll learn over dinner.” Jaskier turns and walks back towards the kitchen, pulling his phone out. “Now I’m debating between the fish platter and their beef stew. What are you having?”

Geralt feels exposed, like Jaskier just took his soul and held it with both hands. Yen used to do it all the time during their fights, pulled at the parts of him that were raw and hurting, when she felt like he deserved it (and some of those days he did deserve it). She was practically an expert in ripping him open; it had taken her the better part of a year to learn the skill and another still to perfect it.

This didn’t feel like when Yen did it. She did her work with claws and venom and this? This feels like Jaskier had been removing pieces of heavy armor, undoing buckles with each finger, each reason, until he was bare and weightless. It’s a terrifying idea to be known like that. It’s gone so badly before.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is quiet, but it brings Geralt back to himself nonetheless; he looks guilty and concerned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“

“Platter.” His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eye with what he hopes is a kind expression. “Get the platter. It feeds two.”

The smile on Jaskier’s face is worth it.  


**Author's Note:**

> This may become a series? Not sure yet. I hinted at some things, but didn't find the opportunity to expand on them. 
> 
> The Blaviken incident is mentioned. Vesemir's the landlord btw and is still practically Geralt's father. Lambert and Eskel along with Regis and other book characters are also living in the building, but are not mentioned.
> 
> Zoltan was suppoed to help Jaskier move. He never showed. Hopefully for a good reason.


End file.
